Apologies for the proud mother bit, but I have to share this poem,
which my 12 year old daughter Zoe has written over the past couple of
days. My only contribution was to fix up the spelling.
I think it shows all the excess of a true poet :)
A
1
A creamier milk froths up the famished dust
The shrouded silver moon gathers the last shards of heaven's night jewels
The pine tree sews ever more needles upon its bough of musk
Life puts on her thimble and knits up the rusty causes of oily blood pools
Her pleated blue dress hisses the language of silence
2
Salty tears of loneliness wobble then rush down her slender plum cheek
Quenching the thirst of crisp barren wilderness beaten by her gaze
A glint of eagle circling the red mountain he sings with his broken beak
He sings tongues of silence, eagles share her ways
His song is somehow different its flowers are pressed on violence
3
A thickly buttered moon hangs from midnight milk
Patterned drumbeats are heard from the village
His grey pads beat upon her dress uttering silent silk
Rumours via Indians grow of wolves from the east foliage
The sky is her canvas in which she studs his audience burning in a creek
4
His dappled hair flaps and his silver ruff unravels in the breeze
The rough pads of his paws lie still on the melting stone
His song eases my pain, the jarred sound softens the tease
In his wild company I am never completely alone
Yet how can I be happy when an ocean is hanging off my cheek?
--
Alison Croggon
Home page
http://www.users.bigpond.com/acroggon/
Masthead Online
http://au.geocities.com/masthead_2/
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